There Is No Try
by Allocin
Summary: Anakin and Qui Gon are both witnesses to Obi Wan's perfectionism. No one asks for more from Obi Wan than himself. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: There Is No Try  
AUTHOR: Allocin  
SUMMARY: Anakin and Qui-Gon are both witness to Obi-Wan's perfectionism. No one demands more of Obi-Wan than himself.  
RATING: PG  
CATEGORIES: Action/Adventure  
CHARACTERS: Obi-Wan, Anakin, Qui-Gon  
TIMELIME: Anakin's apprenticeship; Obi-Wan's apprenticeship  
A/N: Movieverse only. This is an attempt to explain why Obi-Wan is such a mean-spirited, endlessly unsatisfied, overly-critical person in AOTC.  
DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all related names, places and merchandise, are the property of George Lucas, 20th Century Fox, and whomever else. I make no profit and mean no insult by this venture.

**ONE**

"Feel the Force flow through you," a voice said, gently permeating Anakin's thoughts so as not to ruin his concentration. "The Force is a partner, not a tool. You must cooperate, not dominate."

Standing on one hand in the apartment he shared with his Master, Anakin focused his attention on the objects scattered around the room. His Philosophy textbook, the coffee table, a datapad about their next mission, the pile of wires and circuits in the corner that would soon become a robot once he had a moment to finish it, all gently lifted into the air, floating effortlessly. Obi-Wan circled him, gently probing Anakin's connections to the objects with the Force, as comforting a presence as it was annoying.

"Only by focusing the mind can you hear the call of the Force. Only by hearing the Force can you choose to obey its commands." Anakin had, of course, heard it all before. These practices were commonplace, as Obi-Wan seemed to feel that Anakin needed the concentration exercises more than any other part of his training. It irked him that his Master couldn't see he was ready to do the levitations without a helping hand. It was the subject of most of their current arguments. He had only been a young child when he had left his mother, but even before then, she had let him figure things out for himself; she hadn't made him do things he didn't want to, or made sure he was always with someone. To Anakin, it was abundantly clear that Obi-Wan didn't trust him, and that hurt more than he cared to admit.

As if sensing his thoughts, Obi-Wan paused in his pacing, lips pursed. Then, after a brief internal debate, he seemed to come to a decision. "I'm just going into the kitchen for a drink. Remain focused, Anakin," he said, and left the room.

Anakin couldn't believe it. His restrictive, restraining Master was finally trusting the Padawan to perform the exercise by himself? The pleasure and satisfaction surged through him, buoying him up like nothing else could until it had all of his attention … and, with a cry, he tumbled to the ground.

Master Obi-Wan strolled out of the kitchen, glass of water in one hand, and leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes quickly flicking over his apprentice's sprawled body. Flushing with shame, Anakin used the Force to banish the fallen objects to their places, all too aware of the smug smile dancing on Obi-Wan's face.

"What did you do wrong, Padawan?" his Master asked. Always what he had done wrong; never what he had done right. Sometimes, Anakin felt he could cry for lack of praise.

"I lost concentration, Master," he answered, and if he sounded petulant, it was because his fall had hurt quite a bit, though his Master hadn't thought to ask him. Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed at the tone, but he did not call his Padawan on it.

"Until you can concentrate with purpose you are a danger to yourself and others, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, in the tone of voice that made Anakin feel lower than dirt. "You will meditate on this, and practice again in the morning. Now go wash up."

For a moment, Anakin stood where he was, torn between the urge to obey his Master, and the urge to argue. It wasn't fair! He was perfectly capable of levitating a few objects; he didn't need someone to hold his hand while he did it. "You have something to say, Padawan?" Obi-Wan pressed, the muscles in his jaw tightened for yet another argument.

"Master, I don't need to meditate on what I did wrong. We've been working on this for months! Just because I'm better than everyone else, doesn't mean you should make me work harder than them on things I can already do! You're always pushing me, and I can never do anything right for you! I bet you never had to train so hard –"

"Padawan, that's enough!" Obi-Wan's stern voice seemed to echo in the ensuing silence. Anakin could have kicked himself for speaking so rashly, and especially for bringing up the past. If there was one thing he knew, it was never to bring up his Master's own apprenticeship to Qui-Gon Jinn. "You will go to your room and meditate on what you did wrong in today's session," Obi-Wan repeated frostily, and Anakin knew he had managed to throw a very large rock into the calm lake that was Obi-Wan.

"Yes, Master," he bit out, and stormed into his room.


	2. Chapter 2

_**TWO** _

Though Qui-Gon had known only the life of a Jedi, and was honoured to have been chosen to follow that path, there were certain aspects of being a Jedi Master that were not nearly so glamorous as young Initiates liked to believe.

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn hated Council debriefings.

The formal summons had come at ninth hour; it was now seventeenth hour. He was hungry, he was achy, and he was tired. Right then, all Qui-Gon wanted to do was curl up on the battered sofa in the apartment he shared with Obi-Wan, and forget about the whole affair.

This, he noted as he walked through the door, would prove to be absolutely impossible, as the battered sofa he was so fond of was currently suspended half a meter above the floor. As were all items of furniture in the common room not nailed down.

"Padawan!" he barked when he spied Obi-Wan, balanced calmly on his head in the far corner. To his credit, nothing fell out of the air, though the apprentice himself toppled unceremoniously onto his side. Very gently, the sofa landed safely down, as did the lamp, the table, the row of holopics, and every piece of the jigsaw puzzle that had previously been half-completed on the floor.

Qui-Gon was not surprised by the fact that half of his worldly possessions had been hanging high enough to make a fall very dangerous, so much as he was by the fact that those same possessions had been hanging since he had left. Eight hours previously.

"Master," Obi-Wan greeted with a bow. Qui-Gon glanced suspiciously around the room, but everything was exactly as he had left it.

"Obi-Wan, tell me you haven't been practising levitation the entire time I've been gone," he said shortly. The fact that his Padawan suddenly found the floor greatly of interest was all the answer that Qui-Gon needed. With a very unJedi-like sigh, he plopped onto the sofa, letting its familiar curves soak away his aches.

"Forgive me, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, having moved silently to stand in front of the sofa. Opening one eye, Qui-Gon could see the true remorse in his apprentice, and relented slightly. He patted the space next to him, and Obi-Wan sat, curling his legs under him like a normal teenager.

"Padawan, how many times must we have this discussion?" Qui-Gon said wearily, causing Obi-Wan to flinch.

"I'm truly sorry, Master," he said sincerely; "I only wished to practice what you had taught me. I was not aware of the time." Qui-Gon believed him, of course – it wasn't in Obi-Wan to tell anything but the truth unless otherwise pushed – but he couldn't let the matter drop.

"I am sorry, Master," Obi-Wan repeated. "It's just that –" he paused, glancing at Qui-Gon for permission to continue. At his Master's nod, Obi-Wan went on, "It's just that Master Yoda always says that we do or do not, there is no 'try'. I know that I can't learn everything straight away, so I have to keep doing these practices until I do them right," he explained.

Not for the first time in his life, Qui-Gon wanted to kick Master Yoda. If there was one Jedi in the Order who could drive his Padawan to exhausting heights, it was he. Unfortunately, it left Qui-Gon with the unfortunate job of trying to bring reason to his Padawan's rather straight-minded logic.

"Explain to me again why you mustn't over-exert yourself? Why you shouldn't practice new skills and techniques without supervision? I seem to have forgotten in my old age," he said. The boy blushed so hard, Qui-Gon fancied he could almost feel the heat from where he sat.

"As a servant of the Force I must always be willing and able to do its bidding. I must strive to better myself in the name of the Force, but not at the expense of others or myself. Hard work is a virtue of the Jedi, but too much hard work can be self-destructive, which is a path to the Dark Side. In order to function as an arm of the Force, I must always be aware of what I am capable of, and not exceed those limits. To seek knowledge beyond my grasp is not the true path of the Jedi, and will only obscure the ultimate goal: unity with the Force."

The speech was known by rote, an amalgamation of different lectures delivered to the boy by Qui-Gon, Yoda, Mace Windu, among others. Obi-Wan's attitude to work – the more the merrier – was both an inspiration and a curse. It was Qui-Gon's duty to make sure the boy took rest when he needed it, and didn't overtax himself.

"One day, my young Padawan, you will remember that lesson. Until then, I will keep drilling it into you. It's the one thing you have yet to perfect," the Master said teasingly. Obi-Wan's blush didn't fade, but in fact burned harder, especially when his stomach growled hungrily. For his part, Qui-Gon couldn't help the broad smile that spread across his face in response. "Are you hungry, by any chance?" he laughed.

"Yes Master," Obi-Wan muttered, but there was a smile tugging at his lips too.

"Come on then, Padawan. We must fix us a hearty meal, before we both collapse from hunger," the Master declared as he rose to his feet. Obi-Wan followed him into the kitchenette.

"We couldn't have that, Master," he said cheerfully, "The Healers have not forgiven me for what I did to that bed." Qui-Gon laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

Anakin wished he were wet.

This was not something most natives of Tatooine ever wished for, because it did not occur to the majority of them that water was an abundant resource in some parts of the galaxy, and consequently they thought of water only as a rare and precious chemical for drinking. Most of the population had never seen more than cup of water in one concentration, and practically no one had ever actually bathed. Outlanders could find the smell a bit off-putting, but to those who lived there, it was just another aspect of their hard life on Tatooine.

All of this did not conspire to Anakin wishing he were wet. Having grown up on the desert planet, he was all too aware of the sacrilege of contaminating large bodies of water with sweat and dirt. Often, Obi-Wan had to physically force him into the 'fresher for a wash, when the other Jedi at the Temple began to complain about the smell.

Anakin swore that, if he ever got back to the Temple in one piece, he would shower every single day.

Wincing, the young Padawan dragged himself upright, propping himself gingerly against the rough stone wall at his side. He tried to swallow, but his throat was so parched and swollen that the effort was useless. Every muscle in his body was screaming with some kind of complaint; his very skin felt stretched and taut over his bones. He thought he might have a fever, or maybe it was a concussion, or maybe he was suffering some kind of brain damage, because he couldn't seem to focus on anything for very long.

Briefly, Anakin considered reaching for his Master through the training bond, but finally decided that he didn't have the courage for it. After all, it was his own fault he was in this predicament. If it hadn't been for that self-same awe of water, he and his Master would have long fled the planet to call for Republic interference. The two Jedi had been ambushed in a mountain pass by terrorists, and trapped between a steep cliff and a very high, very powerful waterfall. Quickly evaluating the situation, Obi-Wan had backed towards the ledge of the fall, one hand gripping Anakin's shoulder.

"Padawan, on my command I want you to jump into the water," he murmured, just loud enough for fear to grip Anakin. Jump into water? Surely the Force would provide another way, a way less disrespectful?

"Don't move, Jedi," the terrorist leader growled, blaster aimed unwaveringly at Obi-Wan's head. There was a second of absolute stillness, as terrorist and Master stared each other down, before Obi-Wan turned – "Now!" – and leapt over the edge.

If Obi-Wan had just leapt off the Temple, Anakin would have followed without question. There could have been electrical charges jumping back and forth as he fell, or scorching towers of fire, and Anakin would not have hesitated. But in the brief moment when Tatooine instinct and Jedi instinct clashed, it was already too late. The terrorists circled the boy standing paralysed at the edge of the waterfall, and Anakin could only hope that his Master would come for him.

How much time had passed since then, he wasn't entirely sure. The days had blurred together into pain and sleep, and not much difference between the two of them either. Anakin was sure that Obi-Wan would come for him. He had to. His duty as Master demanded that Obi-Wan rescue Anakin, or die trying. Not that Anakin wanted Obi-Wan to die, and now the thought of death was in his head again, whirling around in dizzying spirals.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Anakin focused only on healing the open wounds littering his arms, legs and back. He was all too aware that he was just a Padawan learner – not even a senior Padawan at that – and didn't know anything about the government or the Republic or even the Jedi Order … but the terrorists thought otherwise. They were convinced that just a little more pain would open up the boy, and all the secrets of their enemies would come spilling forth. Just one more cut, one more strike, one more burn, one more torment to add to the mountains of others they had already inflicted.

Anakin hadn't realised he had fallen asleep until someone was shaking him roughly awake. Moaning, he batted the hand away, then abruptly remembered where he was and flinched from the expected slap.

There wasn't one.

Squinting in the light spilling from the door – how odd that the door should be open – Anakin was aware enough to recognise that the man bent over him was not one of the terrorists. He blinked sluggishly, and slowly, the blurred form coalesced into Obi-Wan.

"Master," he breathed, a relieved smile stretching across his face as his eyes slipped closed again of their own volition.

"Anakin! Anakin, wake up!" Obi-Wan ordered, in that tone of voice that brooked no argument. Wearily, Anakin struggled to obey, though why he needed to was beyond him. His Master was here, so all would be well, and he could finally let go. "Padawan, do as you're told. Open your eyes and look at me." Anakin struggled to focus on his mentor; and wasn't it funny that he had never stopped to notice the scar that trailed into Obi-Wan's red hair, like someone had tried to scalp him?

"Master –" Anakin began, meaning to ask about the curious mark, but exhaustion got the better of him and he lapsed into silence.

"Come now, Padawan," Obi-Wan said. He moved efficiently, pulling Anakin's unresisting body onto his lap and tipping a flask to the boy's cracked lips. "Drink up, there's a good boy. You'll need all your strength to get out of here," he cajoled. Almost choking on the juice, Anakin nevertheless smiled. 'Good boy', his Master had said. Had he made his Master proud?

Evidently there was something potent in the innocuous drink, because the pained fuzziness in his head and limbs swiftly vanished, leaving the boy to blink in the blinding light with heightened awareness. He still ached, but the sensation was more acute, and easier to push aside now that it didn't pervade his every thought.

"Better now?" a rumbling voice murmured. Anakin hardly dared to breathe as he realised that he was sat in his Master's lap, tucked against his chest like a toddler, and probably had been for some time, judging by the blood stains that had soaked into Obi-Wan's tunic. He felt his face flush with embarrassment, and attempted to crawl away. "Well, clearly you can move by yourself. We need to be going, my young Padawan," Obi-Wan said, in such a careless tone of voice that Anakin could almost believe they were just setting off for a transport.

Though the mysterious juice had worked miracles on his pain, the fatigue ran much deeper, so that Anakin found he could barely force himself to stand. The wall came to his rescue as he slumped when the room spun nauseatingly.

"I don't – don't think I can, Master," Anakin gasped. Sweat beaded on his brow just from this small exertion. Obi-Wan paused, eyeing his young charge critically with a lip bitten in indecision, before he moved forward.

"You can, Padawan, and you will," he commanded firmly, wrapping one arm around Anakin's shoulders, the other gripping his lightsaber. Knowing that arguing would be fruitless, Anakin gripped Obi-Wan's waist with all the strength he could muster and prepared himself for an exhausting journey. "Anakin, listen to me carefully. Our transport is hiding behind hills half a kilometre north of here. Can you tell me which way is north?"

"Sun – sunrise," Anakin panted. The planet, for reasons unknown to the natives, rotated vertically rather than horizontally, causing the suns to rise in the north and set in the south – an oddity that had greatly amused Anakin when he had first arrived.

"Good. You must get to the ship no matter what. Walk, crawl, skip, hop, whatever it takes, you must not stop until you board that ship. Do you understand me?" Anakin nodded jerkily. "Alright."

They shuffled to the door, where Obi-Wan checked that the coast was clear. Surprisingly, it was still dark – the light that had so blinded Anakin was actually from a spotlight centred to illuminate the prisoners' cells. His own two guards lay in heaps either side of the exit, and Anakin wondered just how badly he had been injured if he hadn't heard the work of a lightsaber outside his very door.

No words passed between them as they moved through the compound, the Master using the Force to cloak their presence, the Padawan using it just to stay conscious. The first sun was just rising when they left the terrorist base, and they could see the silhouetted hills. The sight filled Anakin with resolve – he had a target to aim for now, and he would not fail his Master.

A blaster shot fired at them, missing by scant inches, and Obi-Wan abruptly released his firm hold on Anakin. The boy fell to the floor jarringly. He could hear the lightsaber humming with power as it deflected the next shots. "Anakin, go!" Obi-Wan shouted. He tried, he truly did, and managed to stumble a few metres before his legs gave out again. His Master was backing away from the advancing terrorists, blue blade a blur of motion. Anakin crawled forward, feeling the fuzziness return to his body as the potent juice dissipated. A hand clamped onto his arm, dragging him half up and half forward. Obi-Wan's lightsaber still blocked every shot that came near them, but as they edged up the hill, the terrorists backed off. They knew they had lost their prisoner.

The transport was old, patched and pockmarked, but Anakin had never seen anything so beautiful. "Take off!" Obi-Wan yelled, heaving Anakin aboard. The cold metal bit at his skin, but the young Padawan had no energy left now. He was utterly spent, and would gladly have stayed where he was for all eternity so long as he could sleep. Distantly, he heard Obi-Wan clip his lightsaber away.

"Oh no you don't," came the voice, and Anakin felt himself being hefted into strong arms. A part of him was mortified that he was being carried, by his Master of all people, but for the most part, Anakin was preoccupied with the new wave of agony that the action brought. Before he could stop himself, he screamed, flinching from Obi-Wan's touch; and now that he had started screaming he couldn't seem to stop, didn't want to stop. All the pain of his torture focused itself into that one sound, and he screamed as he never had before. Hot tears scorched his cheeks, and he belatedly realised that he was being prevented from thrashing around by his Master's vice-like bear hug.

At last, his voice hoarse with abuse, Anakin subsided. He could hear a voice murmuring softly in his ear, like his mother used to do when he was sick, and knew for sure that he was dreaming. In that frame of mind, it didn't matter that he was being carried again, or that someone was gently removing his tattered tunic, or that he was being urged to sip from another flask. It was water this time, blessed water, and Anakin took as much as he could.

As tired as he was, Anakin couldn't ignore the pain of his wounds being cleaned and covered with bacta strips. He opened his bleary eyes, catching the attention of Obi-Wan. "Ah, still here?" he said with a small smile. "I think you've managed to deafen me quite thoroughly, though please, feel free to test the assumption." A few more tears slipped free of Anakin's control.

"I'm sorry, Master," he murmured. He must have been dreaming when his Master had said those two precious words, 'Good boy'. Perhaps sleep would take away the pain, though he doubted it.

"Rest now, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, "You've had a busy day."


	4. Chapter 4

_**FOUR** _

Qui-Gon Jinn was a renowned negotiator in the Republic. Though an affinity with the Living Force would normally have meant a complete lack of skill in diplomacy, in Qui-Gon's particular case it allowed him to sense dishonesty in a person, and unexpected problems that would not have occurred to someone close to the Unifying Force. 

What this meant was that his skills were quite sought-after, drawing he and his Padawan from one end of the galaxy to the other. Unfortunately, there were cases when negotiation and compromise would not work, and Qui-Gon had to safely remove himself and his Padawan from the situation before it became volatile. 

In this particular case, he had failed at even that rudimentary task. 

Consequently, the renowned negotiator was stealthily making his way through a 'political correction' camp, avoiding prisoners and guards alike as the Force led him to his poor young Padawan, an innocent victim in the whole debacle. 

Caught in a street brawl between supporters of two rival factions, the Master and Padawan had been separated. Qui-Gon had managed to find shelter in the forests bordering the city, but Obi-Wan had not been so fortunate. Dressed in civilian clothes, he had been as good a target as any, and the last thing Qui-Gon had felt through their training bond before Obi-Wan shielded himself away was shock and terror. 

Obi-Wan's shields had slipped enough for Qui-Gon to track him now, though that in itself was worrying. Through the infinitesimal gap, Qui-Gon detected a great deal of pain and revulsion, and he dreaded to think what condition he would find the boy in. Though they had both been wearing civilian clothes, a brief search would have located Obi-Wan's lightsaber, the surest identification of a Jedi, and that would have doomed him to a fate much worse than the majority of the other detainees. It did not escape Qui-Gon's notice that, the closer he got to Obi-Wan's holding cell, the more guards milled around in the spotlights. 

The Force seemed to vibrate as he circled to the rear of the cell he knew to contain his Padawan. There was a window cut into the metal wall, beams of energy acting as bars, but Qui-Gon could peer through it and, using the limited light available, managed to pick out the small form of his apprentice. 

And what a sorry sight it was. 

Curled into a tight ball, Obi-Wan appeared for all the world to be sleeping, except that his body trembled with every scream from the adjoining cell, where clearly an interrogation was taking place. Qui-Gon wanted desperately to help the abused prisoner, but it was not his battle to fight. The minute negotiations broke down, the situation became a matter of the Senate, and not one lone Jedi. Instead, Qui-Gon blocked out the distressing sound and focused on the bond he shared with his Padawan. Carefully, he nudged at the splintering shields, prodding them more forcefully until Obi-Wan finally looked up. His eyes were shadowed in the dim light, but anyone could see the thankfulness in them as the young man struggled to his feet and tottered towards the window. 

"Took you long enough," he murmured, smiling beyond the pain. Qui-Gon was more relieved than he would admit to hear his Padawan's peculiar brand of humour – it meant the boy was still functioning mentally, further proved by the sudden reinforcement of those mental shields. Whatever Obi-Wan was suffering, he clearly did not want Qui-Gon to share it. 

"I'm sorry Padawan, I had to contact the Temple to warn of your impending arrival," he replied. Stretching out with the Force, the Master determined where the circuits ran for the energy bars across the window, and with a guiding gesture, they crumpled like a flimsy. The garish beams died, leaving a square hole just large enough for a boy to crawl through. Obi-Wan grinned. 

"I'm sure the Healers have been missing me dreadfully since my last visit," he commented idly, already manoeuvring to slither through the space. Qui-Gon moved to the side to give him room, sensing through the Force that no one had yet spotted them. 

"I'm sure, Padawan. Now hurry, we don't have much time," he urged. With some squirming and no small amount of cursing under his breath, Obi-Wan managed to slither through the tiny space and collapse in a heap on the other side. 

The sudden movement sent a spike of pain so sharp through his body that, for a brief second, Obi-Wan's shields – between himself and the pain, and himself and Qui-Gon – vanished. 

Qui-Gon's knees buckled at the sudden wave that hit him. Fear, agony, sorrow, and perhaps a little anger, all flooded the bond for that single moment before Obi-Wan could shut them all off again, leaving them both prone and breathless on the floor. Blinking rapidly, Qui-Gon managed to regain himself first, pushing away his body's sympathetic echoes of pain and rising again. He gently helped Obi-Wan to his feet, supporting the boy when his legs threatened to give out. 

"I'm okay," Obi-Wan whispered, and Qui-Gon could sense him clutching the Force closer, using it as a crutch. Not exactly orthodox, he mused, but then Obi-Wan was apprenticed to one of the most unorthodox Masters in Jedi history. Qui-Gon only just resisted the urge to probe his Padawan, which would surely have resulted in a pointed glare; instead, he peered around the corner, checking again that the coast was clear. 

"There is an energy fence around the compound. Once we get over it, we head towards the sea. I made contact with a group of non-political refugees who have managed to secure transport off the planet. They will leave at the third moon-rising," he murmured. Obi-Wan nodded, drawing himself upright and away from his Master's supporting arms. 

"You'll need to use both hands through the forest," Obi-Wan answered the questioning look sent his way. Nodding once, Qui-Gon let all personal cares and concerns fall from him, honing in on his connection to the Force and letting it guide his actions. 

They were off swiftly, gliding through the shadows with nary a whisper of sound, distracting the guards with simple mind tricks, until the energy-fence came into sight. It glowed a sickly green, and was far too high for an ordinary man to jump. 

Thankfully, Qui-Gon was Jedi, and he cleared the fence in one Force-assisted leap. 

Obi-Wan remained on the other side of the barrier, physically preparing himself for the leap over. Just as he was about to jump, blaster shots erupted from the compound behind, causing Obi-Wan to duck into the bushes for cover. Qui-Gon crouched next to him, close enough to touch if it weren't for the barrier. 

"How many?" Obi-Wan asked. A brief glance left a sour look on the Master's face. 

"Five approaching, two in high perches." The Padawan grimaced, steeling himself as he manoeuvred his feet under him. 

"Master, I hate to say it, but I have a very bad feeling about this," he said lightly, and Qui-Gon smiled. The soldiers circled the bush, blasters aimed and ready to blow the escapee to smithereens. 

"Come out of the bushes with your hands up," the leader ordered; "We've got you surrounded." 

Qui-Gon was suitably impressed with Obi-Wan's sudden leap into the air, and the somersault that carried him safely over the fence. Of course, the landing left much to be desired, but the Master was willing to overlook it in this case. 

"Damn Jedi!" the lead soldier cursed, signalling his group to circle around the barrier and recapture the prisoner on the other side. Qui-Gon estimated that they had a few minutes to spare if they were lucky. 

"Do you need to rest?" he quietly asked the trembling body huddled on the ground. A bark of laughter greeted the offer. 

"Do I ever," Obi-Wan muttered, but already he was climbing to his feet. Qui-Gon was grateful for the dark, so that he didn't have to look at the damage done to his Padawan; it wasn't a very Jedi thought, he realised, but he was Jedi enough to also realise that Obi-Wan was coping far better with the injuries than Qui-Gon. It still amazed him how much a Master could learn from his Padawan. 

"Come," he said, and led the way into the forest. 

As quick as they made their way to the shore, it was not quick enough for Qui-Gon. Almost he felt suffocated as Obi-Wan drew in more and more of the Force to sustain his pace, tapping into greater reserves of strength to see him through, and the Master wanted desperately to sit his Padawan down for a much needed break. Unfortunately, the second moon had just risen, giving them less than half an hour to join the refugees on the coast. 

Finally, they burst out of the deep forest and almost immediately onto the beach. Standing by a hovercraft, the anxiousness of the small group of refugees was almost palpable, equal only to their relief when they saw the two Jedi hurrying down the gently sloping beach. 

"Start it up," Qui-Gon commanded, and the group bundled into the tiny craft. It whirred to life, blowing sand in every direction as it edged into the air and over the water. 

Which was, naturally, when the soldiers opened fire on them. It was so perfectly timed, Qui-Gon felt he could almost have set his chrono by it. Instead, he ignited his lightsaber and deflected the shots as they came, sending them spiralling harmlessly into the water. 

"That feels familiar," Obi-Wan said beside him, and if he concentrated, Qui-Gon sensed it too – a lightsaber, with a pure blue energy crystal inside, to match the pure energy of his Padawan. Before he could advise against it, Obi-Wan had stretched out with the Force and, with a little assistance from his Master to aid his waning strength, called the 'saber to him. He caught it in mid-air with a triumphant smile, before promptly passing out. 

"We need to go faster," Qui-Gon yelled over the spray of the sea. Worry for his Padawan surged through him, and after a brief struggle he released it into the Force. By now they were too far from the coast for the soldiers to shoot, but if they didn't hurry, all the refugees would be caught – by one side or the other – and sent to correction camps. Qui-Gon had little doubt that his Padawan would not live through a second incarceration in his current state of health. 

Their transport appeared on the horizon, a dark silhouette against a star-speckled sky, with waves lapping at its landing pads as it rocked carelessly in the water. The Jedi Master would quite gladly have carried his Padawan aboard, had Obi-Wan not managed to drag himself from unconsciousness. Qui-Gon braced himself for another echo of the pain as he sensed the boy's shields wavering, but they did not collapse like before. Instead, moving with uncharacteristic slowness, Obi-Wan sat up, quickly taking in his surroundings. 

"Are you well, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked softly, entreating the whole truth. Obi-Wan smiled grimly. 

"I will make it," he said firmly, though they both heard the sentiments echoed in that statement: 'I will not fail you'. Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling fondly at his misguided Padawan. 

"You have behaved as a true Jedi in this matter," he said, and knew that it was the highest form of praise Obi-Wan could ever hope for. The boy's face lit up with a shy grin as the small craft fell under the shadow of the waiting ship. 

Under the harsh glare of the internal lights, however, Obi-Wan's smile took on a strained quality. The refugees recoiled from the sight of him, and even Qui-Gon felt the smallest measure of revulsion, which he quickly pushed away. So much blood from one wound – he would not have believed it had the evidence not been in front of him. A slice into Obi-Wan's scalp, as if someone had been halfway into removing it. It had dried in his hair, dripped down his face, and was now a dried red stain across the left side of his body as far as the Padawan's chest. Qui-Gon had never felt so disgusted that people could hurt someone, let alone a young boy, in such a manner. 

Once he assured himself that the refugees were capable of taking care of themselves, he led his Padawan swiftly into the depths of the ship; as with most transports, the medical bay was not too far from the cockpit, though in so small a ship, it was equipped only for everyday accidents. Still, there were enough bacta strips to cover Obi-Wan from head to toe if need be, which was exactly what Qui-Gon would do should his Padawan's condition require it. 

"Don't argue," the Master said abruptly, ending the argument before it could even begin. Pursing his lips in annoyance, Obi-Wan obediently hauled himself onto the examination table, pulling off his bloodied tunic with something akin to relief. "Lie down," Qui-Gon urged. Allowed easy access to his Padawan's back, the Master set about disinfecting the wounds – mostly shallow cuts and light burns – before coating them in bacta and bandaging them securely. 

By the time Qui-Gon had finished his self-appointed task, Obi-Wan's eyes were half-shut. He fetched a blanket for the boy to shield him from the worst of the chill of space. Obi-Wan shifted groggily, as if trying to rouse himself enough to stand. Qui-Gon gently settled him again, eyeing the head wound warily. He didn't dare clean it, for fear of making things worse, but as the ship slipped into hyperspace, he relaxed slightly. They wouldn't be long in reaching Coruscant, where the refugees planned to stage a demonstration outside the Senate building. 

"Sleep, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon encouraged when the boy tried to wake fully. The Master could hardly keep up with his apprentice sometimes, so driven was he to always be in the thick of things. But for now, Obi-Wan needed the rest, and with a mild Force-suggestion, rest was exactly what he got. 

LAST NEXT 


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

"The three strands of the Padawan braid represent the relationship between a Master, a Padawan, and the Force," the soft voice of Master Obi-Wan murmured. His fingers deftly lifted Anakin's braid, feeling its deceptive strength under his touch, and the beads at intervals signifying his apprentice's lessons and triumphs.

Every Initiate and Padawan in the Temple knew those words, and hoped that their Master would one day speak them. They were treasured close to the heart, the one unwavering goal of every young Jedi. To hear them meant they had succeeded in the first step of their life-long quest: to become fully functional servants of the Force.

"The braid is only a symbol, for a Jedi never ceases to learn about the ways of the Force. The three are bound for all eternity, symbiotes forever entwined: the Master, the Padawan, the Force." With a swift slice, Obi-Wan snipped the familiar length of hair from its roots. It lay, clutched in his hand, like the last rope tying a ship to shore suddenly loosed. Gracefully, Obi-Wan stood, looking down at the kneeling man before him, the man whom had been his apprentice for twelve long years.

Today was the day that Anakin Skywalker, former slave of Tatooine, became fully initiated as a Knight of the Jedi Order.

It was the day Obi-Wan fulfilled his promise.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, he allowed himself to think back on that fateful moment when his beloved Master had asked one last duty of his Padawan. It had been an arduous, often painful challenge to train Anakin and Obi-Wan had occasionally been resentful of Qui-Gon who, by extracting Obi-Wan's bonding word, had effectively stolen his Knighthood. But there had been good times also, when the boy had achieved the next goal faster than any other Padawan his age, and for every happy memory, he thanked his Master for the opportunity.

Obi-Wan was not deaf; he heard the fleeting whispers around the Temple. Anakin was threatening to some, and inspiring to others. His powers were constantly growing, and the outbreak of war had finally brought some maturity to the young man that allowed this momentous occasion to happen. Knighted, they murmured, six years younger than his own Master had been. It was almost unheard of. The only one to better such an achievement was Obi-Wan himself, a Master mere days after he graduated to Knighthood; Obi-Wan was not inclined to view this as a great achievement.

"Rise, Knight Skywalker," Obi-Wan intoned formally, and his former apprentice did so. They stood, eye to eye for a moment, before Anakin threw his arms around his mentor. Clutching tightly, Obi-Wan could feel Anakin's joy radiating through their bond. The Master reflexively sought out that raw part at the back of his mind, where his own bond had previously been, as if searching out the man no longer at the other end. Why, he did not know, though an unconscious part of him perhaps hoped that Qui-Gon would be there to reassure him that he had done well. Of course, there was nothing there but a phantom flash of pain, and the sting of it made him mentally recoil.

"Thank you, Master," Anakin said solemnly when they parted, unaware of his Master's thoughts. Obi-Wan smiled, letting his pleasure transmit through their training bond while it could. Already, the Mind Healer was moving away from the small collection of Padawans and Masters that had gathered for the ceremony; normally, the granting of Knighthood would have drawn many, but the Clone War had emptied the Temple of far too many Jedi. Soon, Anakin and Obi-Wan would rejoin the field, but they had made time for this.

The Healer reached them, hands outstretched. "If you are ready," she said quietly. The two men bowed to her. Obi-Wan felt a last fleeting touch through the bond, Anakin's final goodbye, before they began building the shields around themselves. Though the Mind Healer would take the time and care to slowly shut the bond down, a little discomfort was natural. For Obi-Wan, it would be nothing compared to the absolute agony of feeling his Master's life-force slip away from him.

_/ The pain that spiked through their bond was unbelievable, a wave of undiluted agony before Obi-Wan slammed his shields into place. Already he could feel the presence in his mind weakening, pouring away like sand in an hourglass. His Master was going to die, at the hand of evil, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. But suddenly, Obi-Wan was filled with absolute certainty that he would beat the Sith Lord; he had to, because his Master required it of him. _

The red-tinted force field fell, and in a whirr their two blades connected, snapping as they struck over and over, red against blue. There was no room for doubt in Obi-Wan's mind; his body hummed with the surety of the Force that he could beat this opponent, he would beat this opponent, he had_ to beat this opponent, and he would be at his Master's side in just a moment. Technically, he knew he was outmatched, but he had watched the Sith fight, and was sure he could find a weakness in time. The only problem was, he didn't _have_ time. _

Risking a brief probe along the bond, he was distraught to find that his Master's presence was quickly slipping away. He couldn't let him die! Not alone, on a cold floor on some distant planet. It was more than duty that leant a certain desperation to his attacks, and he would not fail.

The distraction cost him dearly. Before he could quite follow what had happened, Obi-Wan was tumbling into a bottomless hole, his lightsaber clattering away uselessly. Well, he thought distantly, that was going to be a problem. The rest of him was more concerned by the shower of hot sparks the Sith was raining down on him. But the fall had only strengthened his resolve to finish the Sith and return to his rightful place at his Master's side.

He could see quite clearly now, what the creature's weakness was: arrogance. A Jedi should be confident in his abilities, which Obi-Wan was. The Sith were overconfident – it had led to their downfall in the past – and Obi-Wan, a simple Padawan learner, was considered easy prey. That was to his advantage.

Stretching out with the Force, Obi-Wan brushed over all the objects in the room, looking for a suitable weapon, and came across his Master's lightsaber. He was all too aware that his Master was rapidly fading, so Obi-Wan wasted no time on thought, instead allowing the Living Force to flow through him, guiding his immediate actions as his Master had taught him. In the blink of an eye, he had vaulted high over his enemy and slashed him in two. A fitting parallel, though he spared no time to admire it.

Obi-Wan dashed to his Master's side, cradling Qui-Gon's head in his lap. He could feel their bond stretching as his Master slipped further away, but there was enough of his life force for Qui-Gon to open his eyes. While his mouth spoke one thing – about Anakin, and his need to be trained – his eyes said something quite different – you have done well I am proud of you I love you. Their bond stretched painfully taut, pulling at both connecting minds, until with a sigh, Master Qui-Gon Jinn let go to join the Force.

Obi-Wan only just managed to shield himself against the psychic backlash that assaulted his mind, his body curling against his Master's as if that would help to block the pain. Despite the excellent emergency shields, which Qui-Gon had taught him how to implement long ago, Obi-Wan could feel the devastating damage inflicted. Where once the bond had been, there was now a hole, agonisingly raw and bleeding. Obi-Wan had never felt such pain.

He had no strength left, physically or mentally. The pain of the severed bond emptied all thoughts from his mind, a cacophony of silence where only two determined but heart-broken words rang out: "Yes Master".

Tears rolling down his face, Obi-Wan knelt, alone in the middle of Theed, and wept. /

In the years since Anakin had been bound to him as his Padawan, Obi-Wan had occasionally found himself pondering what it was meant to feel like when the bond was officially severed. His friends, as they graduated to Knighthood, had used words like 'irritating' and 'nostalgic'. Obi-Wan never could imagine what it was like.

Laying a hand on each of their foreheads, the Mind Healer gently felt along the bond, intricate and luminescent. Obi-Wan could feel her light and gentle presence, a welcome intruder into the two-way link. Using considerable skill, she carefully tapered it off, like an umbilical cord tied with string. There was a brief uncomfortable sensation, like someone had run sandpaper over his shields, and then Obi-Wan was alone in his mind for the first time since that fateful day. He thought, perhaps, he should have felt some sadness at this.

All he felt was relief.

Anakin had an odd look on his face, which only increased when he could not immediately divine why Obi-Wan was smiling so serenely when he, himself, felt adrift. For twenty-four years, Obi-Wan had shared his thoughts with either Qui-Gon or Anakin, and he relished in the opportunity to keep his shields up tight and withhold a little secret for himself.

_Master_, he thought wearily, _my pledge is now fulfilled. I tried my very hardest, and I hope I have done well by you._

_FIN_

A/N: I feel I need to explain myself. When I was hit by this idea, my only goal was to explain why Obi-Wan acted so aloof and critical in AotC. Whether I've succeeded or not, is in the eye of the beholder, but never doubt that I really love the character of Obi-Wan. He's my favourite in the entire galaxy - I'm bashing him out of love! Anyway, that is all. Thank you for the reviews!


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